


All In

by DuelsDuets



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuelsDuets/pseuds/DuelsDuets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, I am open to forfeits," She slinks towards him as he ruefully puts the glass back down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The whiskey is stronger than she remembers. Real alcohol is limited to replicated (weak) stashes, and alien experiments. So when her fingers graze against the bottle Mark had thrust into her hands the day of Voyager's launch she is suddenly filled with both elation and home sickness. She'd entirely forgotten about the bottle after being ripped away to the other side of the galaxy. Discovering it four years later shoved inside an old bag in the back of her closet she thinks it's a miracle that she didn't find it in pieces.

She brings it out into the living area and sets it reverently on the coffee table. There is a flicker of anxiety in her chest when she looks at it. It's too strong a link to... before. Funny, she wonders when she stopped openly talking about Earth, even in her head.

She crosses back into her sleeping area, stripping her uniform off as she goes. The urge to connect to who she was seizes her. She walks back to the closet and changes into her under utilized civilian clothes. She's forgotten how one goes about picking an outfit, choice has become overwhelming. She slips on tight black pants and a matching tank top, she looks at herself in the full length mirror and rolls her eyes. She might as well be wearing her uniform.

She crosses back out to the coffee table and picks up a dirty glass. She pours a finger of the scarce liquid in. She inhales the scent and downs the liquor in one go. It burns all the way down. She'd forgotten how good it could be. She sits down heavily on her sofa, bottle in hand, the weight of it satisfying on some level. She pours again and puts the bottle down. She nearly fills the glass, breathes in the scent and then begins to greedily gulp half of it away.

At home she'd barely been a social drinker, for the first time in her life she's almost afraid that she won't know when to stop. That flicker of apprehension disappears as she swallows another mouthful.

She turns to stare out at the starscape through the viewport. She kneels down on the sofa, and puts one hand gently on the glass. Ever since they'd gotten the stars back, clawed their way out of the dark, she'd had a hard time dragging her eyes away from them. She wanted them to be comforting, like they once were, but she'd...lost something in the void. Or uncovered something in her that she was struggling to keep buried. Something that made it hard to face every morning, that made the stars feel lifeless and remote. Maybe it was her own reflection getting in the way.

Her door chimes suddenly and she hopes it's Chakotay and not some poor crewman who is about to stumble in on their intoxicated Captain. She stands upright quickly and instantly regrets it, the room tilts at an awkward angle and she suppresses the urge to growl in frustration. "Come in." she calls.

"Oh good, Captain I was afraid you might've gone to bed already." Tom Paris barrels into the room with almost no regard for decorum. He's staring at the padd he's holding and manages to bash his shins on her coffee table before even realizing how far into the room he's entered. The Captain let's out a snort of laughter and Tom looks at her sharply. He smiles and then winces while he rubs his smarting shins. And then he notes the bottle on the table.

"I can, uh, come back later Captain." He nods toward the liquid sloshing in her cup as she sits back down with a sigh.

"Tom, what did you need?" Her glass comes to rest with a low thud as it meets the table.

"It's stupid, just a new holoprogram that I wanted to talk to you about, training exercises and things. But, your busy." He's backing away now, a ghost of concern flitting across his face. It fills her with regret suddenly, and something else.

"Care for a drink Mr. Paris?" this stops him in his tracks, he's surprised and she feels a little triumphant at being the cause. She shakes the bottle at him, "it's real," she sing-songs. She's toying with him now and he knows it. But she's got him, he's not one to back down. He smirks as he grabs a coffee mug off her desk and sits down with her on the couch. He holds the mug out and she pours him two fingers obligingly.

"Well who am I to turn down such a tempting offer?" He tosses the padd on the floor and throws his feet up on the table. She gracefully tucks her legs beneath her and turns toward him.

"Good man Mr. Paris, I'm pretty sure it's against regs to let your Captain drink alone."

He nods in response, "I'm sure it is. So...know any good drinking games?"

She laughs and sinks further into the couch, it's good that it was him at the door, he could still make her do that. "Oh, I don't know, most of the ones I know involve movement, are you up for a little...activity?" She glances at him from beneath her lashes. She's thrown a gauntlet. Tom downs the rest of his drink quickly, and brings the mug back down to the table.

"I can take whatever you can dish out Captain."

They'd dragged her small dining table into the middle of the room, it's not the best platform for this sort of thing, but they've both gotten used to 'not quite right' in the last four years. The assortment of glassware on the table is mismatched and Tom is certain that it's arranged in such a way as to give her an advantage. Cheating, he's quickly realized, is not beneath her.

Her face is flushed and she sways as she aims with the small white ball, she's bringing it closer and farther from her face as she tries to find the perfect trajectory. Tom is sure she is attempting to apply physics to the situation but calculation at this level of intoxication rarely works in one's favor.

She releases the ball from her hand and it lands with a plop into one of his cups. She'd just scored one of the more difficult shots, and she is grinning wildly.

"Drink, drink, drink!" She is chanting and clapping, and Tom has to fight to stop himself from pouting because she is beating him soundly. The gall of this woman.

He picks up the glass and fishes the ball out before downing the liquid, it had stopped noticeably burning about three drinks ago and he knows that that's a bad sign.

"You know, I am open to forfeits," She slinks towards him as he ruefully puts the glass back down.

"Of course you are, it's my turn." He is watching her hands as she grips the table, the fact that either of them are upright at this point is a small miracle. The fact that she can give him that look of taunting, and challenge and...provocation. Tom ends that line of thinking. This is why drinking with your Captain is bad. This is why drinking with your willful, exciting, challenging and attractive Captain is very bad.

Tom steps back from her, he throws the the ping pong ball at her selection of cups, and misses miserably. "And here I thought pilots were good with their hands." She taunts.

"I'm better at other things!" he protests lamely, folding his arms with a snort.

"Of course you are" She encourages, she picks the ball back up, and begins to aim. Tom doesn't think he can take another drink at this point.

"So what would your forfeit entail, exactly?" She plunks the ball into and empty mug thoughtfully, gleeful at his admission to her vast superiority at their modified beer pong.

"You know, I hadn't actually thought that far ahead." She stands with her hip cocked out, the star light glints off her hair in the darkened quarters. She picks up one of her full mugs and stares into it with an almost predatory leer on her face. Tom finds that he appreciates the expression. His own excitement rising.

Tom has an idea that this is the point where he should excuse himself, he can feel the evening changing and he isn't really sure it's not for the worse. He should thank her for her hospitality, for the whiskey and put himself quickly to bed. It's not good to stay into the wee hours of the morning with a woman whose first name is taboo.

The Captain's eyes catch something in the viewport and her smirk fades. She downs the drink in her hand, and doesn't notice Tom's look of concern wash over his face again, or she doesn't care to.

"Well lets mull over a proper humiliation then," he says with decisiveness. His upbeat tone is a little forced, but she favors him with a small smile and it's worth it.

He sits heavily on her sofa again, and she joins him. His weight dips the couch towards him and she ends up leaning right into him. Their thighs flush against each other. She throws her head onto the back of the sofa and Tom stares at the pale column of her throat.

Her voice is husky as she mutters, "I intend to get full satisfaction from this Paris." She's referring to the forfeit he knows, but his mind wanders a little at the statement. Wanders towards the possibilities. Her threat is a joke. Its intention is friendly. He watches as her chest moves methodically up and down as she breathes and Tom is certain that he will regret this.

They had tossed out the obvious forfeits, him handing over his replicator rations, doubling his sickbay duties, scrubbing plasma manifolds, but all these options had been deemed too obvious and tedious for either of them. They were an inventive and intelligent pair, as such the forfeit should produce something a little bit more interesting.

At some point she propped her feet up in his lap and he began to rub them gently. He'd suggested he be her personal masseuse for a month, and his eyes had twinkled mischievously. She giggled, he balked at hearing his Captain giggling, and was able to recover himself enough to remember just who he was with. He acquiesced that he wouldn't want to step on the Doctor's territory. Around 0300 hours they'd finally settled on him building her a complex and elaborate holoprogram. The Captain had thrown out ideas for him that became more absurd as the last drops from the bottle vanished when he'd decided it would in fact be a surprise. She had pouted sulkily.

He reluctantly disentangled his limbs from the Captain's and staggered over to the replicator, two waters appeared and he handed one sloppily over. He sank back into the couch and attempted to slosh some of the liquid inside his mouth.

She toasted him with her glass, "Very sensible," She muttered. She snuggled down next to him, her head resting gently on his shoulder.

"Well, I thought I might try it out." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, her skin was hot to the touch.

"I'm surprised you didn't have other plans this evening Mr. Paris." He tried to focus his gaze at her, the room was decidedly a little hazy, but her eyes sparkled up at him.

"Well, I'm glad I didn't-" he stopped as he suddenly and horribly remembered that he in fact did. He stood up swiftly, spilling his water all over his uniform jacket, and depositing the Captain on the floor.

"What the hell! What is it?" She stared up at him as she unceremoniously slid to the floor. Her knees hitting the carpet.

"Oh, sorry, I just, I forgot," he was panicking a little, "I was supposed to meet B'Elanna after I talked with you, and...obviously I didn't." She stood up next to him, wobbling a little. He had a look of terror on his face.

"Well, you must, uh, must be mistaken, she would have commed." She tried to reassure him, sloppily patting him on the shoulder.

"Oh I am so dead! I better, I uh," He was having a hard time articulating just how bad this was, he felt he should contact B'Elanna immediately, control the damage somehow. He was just about to slap his comm. badge when the Captain batted his hand away and covered his mouth.

"I think it's a little late for apologies," she slurred. He could feel how hot her hand was against his lips. Her other hand was resting gently on his chest. She was leaning into him, using him to steady herself. She was staring into his eyes. His panic subsided a little. She slowly pulled her hand from his mouth.

"You're all wet Tom," She whispered, her hand flitting gently across his chest.  
They were swaying together, anchored by her hand. His own came up of its own accord to gently rest on hers. He stepped closer, and brought both his hands around her back.

"You should probably change, you'll catch your death." She giggled again, that she could joke right now seemed like the most amazing thing.

Then she stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

They stood like that for a quiet moment before she stepped back quickly, her eyes boring into his, the amusement gone from her face. She stumbled and he caught her again, he pulled her tight against himself and his mouth descended on hers. She opened her mouth under his, her tongue darting out, tracing his teeth. Her hands roamed his back, she dipped lithe fingers into the waist band of his pants, pulling the material of his jacket up. Her hot hands blazing a trail down his spine.

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hand raked through her short hair, pulling at her scalp. He walked them over to her couch, and they tumbled heavily down, his hips pressed sharply into her belly, and she moaned at the pressure of his pelvis against hers. She drew her slender legs up his torso, knees digging into his sides.

His stubble was rubbing her jaw raw and her teeth nipped at his lips. He was pressing into her farther, meshing them together. The fabric between them was making her frantic, she attempted to push it off them both without losing contact.

He elevated himself above her and with stumbling fingers unzipped his uniform jacket, she struggled to get her tank top off, and the sight of her pale flesh mesmerized him. The image imprinting on his mind. Her hips were bucking gently into him. He covered her body with his own again, his lips catching hers. Their bare skin felt charged as they met, slick and hot. He groaned as her hands came around and grabbed his ass, and he heard her dry chuckle low in her throat.

He began to fumble with the fly of his pants and realized that he'd have to use his eyes to solve the puzzle that his zipper was now creating for him. He pulled away from her again to look down, and smiled when she gave a frustrated growl. It reminded him of B'Elanna.

He inhaled a sharp breath and looked up at her. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were heavy lidded and darker than he'd ever seen them. She was exquisite. And Tom knew that he should never have seen her like this.

She looked back at him and lifted her chin. They held the moment. Something flickered in her eyes and died, she shifted slightly, and he got up slowly. The connection broken, the charge gone. She swung her legs around and sat up, she rubbed the back of her neck.

"I'm so sorry Capt-"

"Don't, Tom." She raised a hand to cut him off, though her voice was soft. He nodded mutely. He needed to go, he was having a hard time convincing his legs.

She picked up the forgotten bottle off the floor, placing it gently on the coffee table. She stared past him, into the dark. "It's nothing, forget about it," She shrugged her shoulders limply and turned her back on him.

"Captain-" Tom started, he didn't know why he wanted to fight her.

She looked back over her shoulder, her look stopped him, "You know where the door is." She turned away again.

He backed out silently, sure he had ruined something, he was used to it.

Kathryn stared out the viewport, it looked cold out there.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom was trying really hard to feel bad about not feeling bad. Unfortunately it wasn't working. Things had been surreally normal. Pleasant in point of fact. It had been three days since the, uh, incident. And so far the only consequences had been the massive hangover he'd woken up with the next day. When he'd finally drug himself to the mess in an attempt to appear alive, B'Elanna had run up to him and apologized for missing their date. She'd gotten stuck on some problem in engineering and it had slipped her mind entirely. He had had to forgive her.

He should probably feel bad that things were going so well, but Tom thought he'd better just go with it, that way it might continue unabated.

Maybe Tom was a bigger bastard than even he'd ever thought.

.

Tom almost walks right past her on his way to the holodeck when he pulls up short. She's half-buried in a panel in the wall busily working on something. Her jacket thrown on the floor. Tom considers continuing on his way, but she leans forward even farther, her ass sticking up in the air. His choice obvious.

"Captain," he drawls, "fancy meeting you here." Her head pops up in surprise, and she hits the top of it on the underside of the panel. She heaves her torso from out of the wall enough to glare up at him.

"Mr. Paris, is this a special place of reflection for you? Do you need a moment with this particular junction?" She's straightening up entirely, rubbing half-heartedly at the sore spot forming on her head.

"No ma'am, I just had an idle question and I wondered if you could help me out?" Tom has a mischievous smile around his lips. It's the first time they've been alone together since...earlier. He might be pushing things too far, but he's not ready to examine why.

She dusts her hands off on her pants, and looks at him levelly, she has that unreadable Janeway stare aimed on him. Her smile belays the effect as she crosses her thin arms. "What can I do for you?"

Tom attempts his sternest look, he leans in conspiratorially, "Have you been...stalking me Captain Janeway?"

She turns to face him fully, "What are you-?"

"Well. Now you're here outside the holodeck during my appointed time, I saw you in the mess hall earlier-"

"Tom, what is wrong with you?"

"And you were on the bridge during my shift, and that's just plain suspicious." He says with relish.

"Are you this goofy all the time?" She looks up at him with mock concern on her face. "Do you have mental problems that need to be addressed?"

"I don't know," he nodded in a winsome manner, "Come find out?" He gestured to the holodeck.

She hesitated for a moment, picked her uniform jacket of the ground and then slapped the comm. badge. "Vorik, can you finish the relay reconfiguration tomorrow?" The vulcan spoke his affirmative as the Captain followed Tom inside.

.

It was trite, but familiar, they were playing pool. She was beating him, but that was familiar too. Tom sipped from his chilled white wine, her choice again. She'd replicated the bottle as soon as the doors had closed, it wasn't good but it was serviceable.

He consoled himself by blaming his losing streak on the fact that his shots had been ruined by well timed dirty innuendo, or the brush of her hips as she squeezed past him to take a shot, or that assessing look she kept giving him. The Captain did not play fair. She did seem happier than he'd seen her in weeks and he realized that he felt happier too. It was a bit of a shock, he hadn't realized he wasn't quite happy until that moment.

She sank the eight ball with a happy clink, and slapped the table in victory. "Paris I don't know how you're going to repay me if you keep losing at this alarming rate."

"That's why I strategically chose not to bet on this game Captain." He nodded to the now bare table top. She placed her cue on top and took a seat at the bar, he came around and sat down next to her.

"Well, I'm glad you have your wits about you," she murmured. She finished the last mouthful in her glass, her lips twisting at the taste. He smirked and caught her eye, he looked away, a flush coming to his cheeks. She patted his shoulder softly.

"I can probably forgive any...debts, you might owe me." They were both steadfastly looking into the fireplace across the room. They hadn't addressed the other night yet, Tom felt uneasy about broaching the subject. He wasn't even certain that they needed to.

"I always pay up my debts Captain." He turned to her then, her eyes staring out into the middle distance looked as dark as they had the other night. There was a tension in her shoulders that reminded him of her withdrawn persona. She was sitting right next to him on her matching barstool, but looking at her now she seemed so remote. He felt like he was looking at a painting of her. 'The lone woman in distress'. He put his hand in hers and turned back to the fireplace.

She looked down at their entwined hands, her breath hitched a little. She slid off the stool, her hand pulling out of his. Tom instantly worried that he'd really gone to far, making out with her? Well that was fine, but a little hand-holding, might as well get the hanging rope.

She looked up at him, her eyes half lidded, her hair glowing in the warm light of the smoky room. She stepped up to him. Looking into his face for a moment. Tom was so keenly aware of how still she was, aware of the blank mirror-like glaze of her eyes. He couldn't tell if the whirl of emotion he saw there belonged to her or himself.

Then she kicked his ankles apart with the toe of her boot, stepped between his legs, and kissed him slowly.

Her hands dragged up his body to rest sedately on his chest. It felt like she was melting into him. She was pressing into him millimeter by millimeter, and it was so, so good.

Tom wanted to seize her, pin her against the pool table, he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her standing. Her tongue slowly lapped at his lips and he parted them eagerly. He gripped her thin hips hard. Her breasts pushed firmly into his chest. Her hair tickling his face. Her hand floated down to his thigh, she raked it from knee to waist band. His hands slipped down to cup her ass and he pulled her up into his lap. Her legs dangling either side of him on the bar stool. God he was hard, straining uncomfortably in his pants. Her wandering hand dipped below his waist band and stroked him languidly through his shorts. The Captain was kind of a tease. Tom laughed at the thought.

She pulled back a little, "Something funny Mr. Paris?" Her voice was like steel wrapped velvet. Tom didn't know how he'd be able to listen to another command without getting hard.

Tom gestured vaguely with one of his hands, his voice rough, "There's a lot funny I've realized." She pulled back a little more, she looked into his eyes. Then she dipped her hand into his underwear, the contact of skin on skin made him tremble.

"You're not wrong." She squeezed and Tom realized that he wasn't going to hang on long. Her thumb tracing his length gently, then tugging sharply. She pressed her breasts back into his chest and her teeth bit down slowly on his ear. Tom wanted to touch her, but due to their position he could only stroke her back as he balanced them both. Her other hand slid underneath his shirt to tease a nipple in time with the stroking of her hand. A low moan escaped her throat as she ground into him. He twitched again. She dragged her nipping teeth across his jaw to settle fiercely back on his mouth.

She quickened her pace suddenly, catching him off guard, her tongue ravaging his mouth. He was pushing back with just as much force, the only outlet he had to return her enthusiasm. His hips were bucking up into her hand, creating an erratic pace, and then she bit down on his lower lip, pulled away and moaned his name.

He came sharply, and with a strangled cry.

His little after shocks jerked them both in their seat. She withdrew her hand slowly, wiped it on the bar rag on the counter. She kissed him chastely on the cheek and slid off his lap. He could tell by her few steps that she was still tightly wound. Heat was radiating off her, and her gaze looked like she wanted to devour him. His breath came in sharp inhales. She slowly dragged her gaze up to his eyes. She seemed uncertain again.  
"Thank-Thank you for the evening Mr. Paris." She was withdrawing.

Tom was having a hard time getting his brain to restart, "What are you, I mean why..?" He looked around quizzically, articulation was impossible at this point. He gestured to his crotch and then nodded in her general direction.

She let out a snort. "It's a nice way to spend an evening Mr. Paris, " he stared at her with incredulity, " with you." She turned around and left without a backward glance.

.

"Mr. Paris, I want you to monitor our course closely as we navigate the particle storm, I don't want any surprises today." The Captain commands as she checks the figures at ops. station. Tom glances behind him and sees her standing close to Harry. Her face rapt as Harry makes some joke, her dry chuckle ringing out over the bridge.

Tom turns back to the controls, the sound needles him a little, as he hears them murmuring to each other. This is not good.

Tom focuses intently on his instruments for the remainder of the shift. Tuvok is probably having a coronary monitoring how seriously Tom is taking his duties for once.

.

The meal before him is attempting to scurry away before he can manage to get it into his mouth. Neelix has assured everyone that the 'larvapods' were completely cooked and that their natural squirminess was a part of what made them a delicacy. Tom sighed in disdain and pushed his tray away, mustering up disgust at the many preparations of the Talaxian was more work than it was worth anymore.

Tom scanned the mess hall with interest. If he was lucky someone had elected to replicate an edible meal that they were also willing to share. Or could be convinced to share.

Harry walked in with B'Elanna chatting animatedly at his side, they both hesitantly let Neelix load up their trays and made a beeline for Tom's table. B'Elanna smiled up at him as she sat down, Tom attempted to reciprocate but felt himself grimace in response.

"So," Harry began, "should we even attempt to get this down, or?" He poked the larvapod half-heartedly.

"I tried until I realized that it would be infinitely worse coming back up then it was going down." Harry's fork clattered to the table at that and three of them laughed quietly together.

"Harry wants us to go on a holo-adventure he found in the databank tomorrow evening. Sound good?" B'Elanna was looking at him with some trepidation, it made Tom's heart lurch.

"Sure sure," he assured her too quickly, "sounds great kiddo!" Tom punched B'Elanna's arm in a friendly gesture. She looked at him quizzically, his attempt at normality was getting embarrassing.

"Here, I'll bus our trays," Tom said brightly, he felt like he saw smiling with all his teeth. He attempted to balance all three trays on top of each other, but the wriggling larvapods made that impossible. He made it about three strides before the trays clattered around him as they slipped out of his reach.

"Here, I've got it," The Captain bent down to grab the plates and right the tray nearest to her. Tom looked up sharply, he hadn't even seen her come in. Her hand reached out to grab one of the creatures but her eyes were looking elsewhere.

"Captain, watch out, they're-"

She inhaled sharply as the fat worm like creature wriggled at her touch. "What, why?" she said disgustedly.

"Dinner," Tom smirked sardonically.

The Captain looked up at him, "Well I guess it's my fault for trying to be a good samaritan." She smiled.

They righted everything and walked over to the recycler, him holding the creatures in both hands. "You should really stop Neelix from going on any more foraging missions."

"What? And miss out on all the 'edible' things this quadrant has to offer?" She said sarcastically. She ordered a coffee from the replicator, "You want anything?" she asked.

"How will I ever pay you back if you keep being this generous Captain?" He was staring intently into her eyes, he felt that heat she inspired bubbling up in him. He was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. He towered over her, forcing her to look up at him with her head cocked, looking up through her lashes.

"You aren't supposed to pay back gifts." She sipped carefully at the hot coffee as it appeared, Tom watched her delicate hands grip the mug. He probably shouldn't think about her gripping things in public. The Captain's eyes flicked back up to his face before settling on his lips.

"I would really like to pay you back Captain." Tom reached out and plucked the coffee cup from her hands, he swallowed a mouthful. The Captain dry swallowed in response.

"Kathryn I've got the new duty rosters if you want to go over them now?" Chakotay intoned abruptly. Tom felt that his observation skills were really becoming sub par, when had the first officer joined them?

The Captain tore her gaze from Tom, her eyes quickly darted around the room, suddenly aware of their situation, before settling on Chakotay.

"Of course, Commander suddenly I've lost my appetite." She gestured sardonically to the buffet. Chakotay let out a small laugh, before he glanced up at Tom.

Tom felt a dark look settling over his features. He tried to appear politely dis-interested. "Did you brave tonight's culinary adventure Ensign?" Chakotay was attempting to force polite conversation, he was good like that.

"No, I didn't have the stomach for it. Sir," It was a very small joke. "Your coffee, Captain." Tom thrust the mug back into her hands, and swiftly left the room, things were getting out of control. He didn't notice the confused looks of Harry or B'Elanna as he fled.

.

Tom was pacing the corridors of his deck. Harry had already come by after Tom had forgotten him in the mess but had only lasted fifteen minutes in the face of Tom's nervous energy. Things were very bad, he kept repeating to himself. Feeling jealousy over Captain Janeway could not help him or her at this point. He didn't even know why he felt so...possessive. They were just...well he didn't really know what they were doing. Maybe that's why he felt so weird about it. Maybe that's why he couldn't even think of it as cheating, because he couldn't quantify it. What a joke, he was probably just trying to make himself feel better.

He had tried to watch a movie, after blowing Harry off, and he was now this close to comming B'Elanna and seeing what a disaster he could make of their relationship. He sighed to himself as he passed his quarters again, peace never lasts.

He was...reacting to the Captain more and more. She seemed almost completely unaffected by their little evenings together, she was no less or more friendly towards him. She still laughed at his jokes and looked him dead in the eye. She was stalwartly in control.

Maybe she didn't remember any of the details, Tom reasoned. She had had more to drink than he on both occasions. Maybe that was what was bothering him, was he taking advantage of her? Tom pulled at the hair on his scalp with frustration. The idea of anyone being capable of taking advantage of Captain Janeway was laughable. So why did everything about this situation seem so wrong?

Through keen observation Tom knew the Captain was able to repress a hell of a lot more than he could. He turned back towards his quarters, if the Captain could so easily pretend that everything was just peachy keen than he could to. Then he wouldn't have to examine why he so easily let himself get carried away, how easily he was willing to drown in her.

How easily she had let him.

The turbolift doors opened just as he was passing them, and fate, who always seemed to have it in for him, had the Captain step out directly in front of him.

Tom felt his jaw go a little slack, and an ironic little smirk twisted the Captain's lips. "Mr. Paris, I was just coming to speak with you."

"How fortuitous," he mumbled.

"Can we speak in your quarters?" She nodded towards his cabin down the hall. He nodded his head as she lead the way.

.

Tom was perched awkwardly on a chair in his own living quarters. The Captain was sitting comfortably on his couch, completely at ease. Tom had exhausted his hospitality already, she had accepted a water and it sat untouched on the table. Tom was aware that he was staring just over her shoulder out the viewport. She was looking at him with a note of concern.

"Tom," she started, "I think it's important that we, uh, clear the air so to speak."

"Uh, yes Captain?" He dragged his eyes down to her face. She looked so different now, not a hair out of place, her eyes a calm blue. Her uniform hiding, well, uh, he ought to focus.

"-So I just want to make sure that you're alright. It was completely inappropriate for me to ply you with liquor," She smiled at her small joke, and then more sternly, "And I take complete responsibility for anything that might of occurred."

"It's not your, uh," Tom tried to pull his thoughts together, "I'm not a teenager, I'm not going to get my heartbroken and start demanding ice cream in the mess hall."

She smiled to herself, "Of course not, but I've made things needlessly complicated between us."

"Complicated isn't synonymous with wrong, Kathryn." She looked up sharply at his familiarity, the pleasantness disappearing from her face. Tom didn't hold her gaze, he was screwing things up spectacularly and he didn't even know how.

"On this ship it is, Ensign," She pressed her lips into firm line, "that little display in the mess was completely out of line." She got up abruptly, she stood and faced him, hands on hips. "I apologize for, encouraging, this behavior, but it ends now."

Tom felt anger twisting in his gut, he rose too, crossing his arms angrily. "What if I'd just like to spend an evening with you?" He bit off, he was throwing her words back in her face. And then he realized what had felt so wrong, he hadn't been taking advantage of her. She had been taking advantage of him.

She threw her hands up in frustration, she strode quickly to his door, "You will obey the regulations of this ship, Tom," She was using his first name, a liberty she had denied him.

Tom snorted in disbelief, "So I guess I should expect you only when you've had a few?" The liquor had been about her easing her boundaries, but it was so she could stomach what she was doing, so she could get away with it. Tom felt a little sick, he wondered if he mattered in this situation at all, maybe he was just a warm body. It wouldn't be the first time.

She whirled around, Tom wanted to shrink back from her glare, but was feeling too reckless. She looked into his eyes. The realization hit her, he knew, "Are you calling me, some, some, drunken whore Mr. Paris?" The fury in her eyes masked whatever else was held there.

Tom faltered a little, he uncrossed his arms, "No Captain, I just take offense to being one."

The Captain looked a little shocked at his statement, and guilt flared across her face before she could stifle it. She looked out at the starscape, when she looked back her eyes were unreadable.

She walked out of his quarters without a word.


End file.
